


An Unplanned Walk

by Silberias



Category: Pride and Prejudice (1995), Pride and Prejudice (2005), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M, leaning more on the 2005 movie than the 1995 series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:28:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27527683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silberias/pseuds/Silberias
Summary: She very much wished that she had chosen to wear her boots instead of her slippers this morning. For one thing she may not have twisted her ankle as badly as she did, and for another her slippers were doing very little to soften the sharp edges of the rocks on the lane. / Lizzie ends up walking to Lucas Lodge the morning after the ball at Netherfield.
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy, Jane Bennet/Charles Bingley
Comments: 18
Kudos: 309





	An Unplanned Walk

“I—I regret to inform you, dear cousin, that I already have an understanding with another. Please understand I cannot marry you,” she forced herself to say all in a rush, managing to get up and away from Mr. Collins and out the door of the house, nearly running out of the yard. Where to go now? John Lucas would be an easy companion—and with that thought she set off down the lane towards Lucas Lodge. She was tired from staying up nearly to dawn, but not so tired as to allow Mr. Collins to catch her up. Lizzie fumed as she walked, that Mr. Collins had dared to presume she or any of her sisters were for sale, to be purchased for the safety a husband provided. And now, because of his presumption she was obliged to find herself a husband before Mama sent one of the stable boys out to find her. John Lucas would do nicely, he had always carried a bit of a torch for her, she knew, but had respected her when she had gently steered him away a few years ago. Besides, then she might secret herself away with Charlotte every day and be introduced as a member of one of the first families in the neighborhood. London drawing rooms would become a possibility for ensuring Mary found a husband or a respectable position, and once Lizzie herself and Mary were out of the way Mama would have no trouble finding partners for Kitty and Lydia. Jane, of course, would marry first and for love.

The briskness of the morning air bit at her and she wished she’d spared a moment to grab even a shawl—Charlotte would give her something warm, though, and Lady Lucas would beam and fuss over her, having always championed John to Lizzie over the years. Her slippered toes though were not best pleased with her, but what were cold toes to being forced to marry Mr. Collins? There was no guarantee that Papa would resist Mama’s inevitable tantrum and anger, even with Lizzie’s happiness at stake. She barely heard the horse galloping around the corner before nearly getting bowled over—Mr. Bingley did not see her, though she knew him by his fawn coat, as he sped towards Longbourne. She’d had enough time to jump out of his way but unfortunately did not think that he would be pursued hotly by Mr. Darcy, whose horse startled with a scream to equal Lizzie’s own and threw him in the effort not to run her down. Mr. Darcy found his feet faster than she did, somehow, and with an impotent gesture towards Mr. Bingley’s rapidly retreating form he realized that she was still trying to pick herself up from the ground. They were each covered with dust and grass stains.

“Miss Elizabeth, I apologize—let me help you,” he was still in some high temper but remembered himself well enough to help her to her feet. Lizzie flushed as she realized he was taking in her general appearance and how unprepared she was for being out for a walk. He seemed unsure of what to do or say next, his own horse having turned tail and run back towards where he’d come from—back to Netherfield, no doubt. Lizzie curtsied, unable to think of something to say, and realized her ankle was smarting terribly as well as her elbow, the cold sharpening the pain. She wobbled a little as she returned to standing normally and Mr. Darcy made a short gesture like he meant to offer his arm to her. 

“Can I escort you home, Miss Elizabeth?” as he spoke Mr. Collins flashed through her mind and she started to shake her head, hoping that she would be able to convince him instead to let her continue on to Lucas Lodge another two miles without proper shoes, shawl, or pelisse. Her ankle was really starting to hurt though, she may not make it there. 

“Mr. Darcy, I—would you walk with me a while? I find a walk—a walk can do much to clear your head after dancing so late in the evening. I had a thought of visiting my friend Miss Lucas, maybe you could walk me until we pass the drive to Netherfield?” At least by then she might ascertain if she could make it the rest of the way. John would offer for her when she explained herself, and while he would not long be able to support his own sister on top of Lizzie’s additional four, perhaps being more often in London would help her sisters find suitable men of their own. None of them needed a grand fortune, and only Lydia was haughty enough to dislike a match with a solicitor or comfortably settled tradesman. 

Mr. Darcy did not approve of Lizzie’s plan to continue on to Lucas Lodge but he did allow her to take his arm and lean a little upon him. Whatever else his faults, he did not argue with her when she made pronouncements. It was a great relief, for another man of a freer personality might have insisted on carrying her or running to fetch help. Lizzie did want a man’s help, but Mr. Darcy was not the one to seek that particular help from. They walked in silence for several minutes, their paces slow because she could only take small steps on her injured ankle. Despite the morning chill she felt suddenly hot all over with fright that Mr. Collins would summon up the will to ride a horse out after her, that he’d secured her father’s consent to the match. 

“Miss Elizabeth this is very untoward but I must ask why you have so obviously fled the breakfast table this morning. I know—I…I know it is your habit to take long walks on the country lanes and even through the occasional field, but you are always properly attired for the chore. Is everything well with your family?”

“You do not mean to but you ask a complex question, sir. Before I answer, will you tell me why you were pursuing Mr. Bingley with such haste? What has happened at Netherfield to cause that happy man to ride break-neck through the neighborhood? Both you and he were riding as though the devil chased you with a strop.”

Glancing up at him showed her companion to be ruddy with embarrassment of some kind, and he swallowed thickly while seeming to search for words. She contented herself with trying to hobble along in a way that didn’t cause her ankle to cry out its injury. Mrs. Turner, the housekeeper of Lucas Lodge, would set her to rights though with a hot water bath to soak her foot in. Finally Mr. Darcy cleared his throat and drew her to look up at him from the corner of her eye. 

“My friend and I disagreed this morning. I…I feel strongly that to form an attachment with another person you must know them more than a month. Mr. Bingley does not share that feeling. We argued—he acting very rashly as he ordered his horse to escape the argument, and I acting just as rashly to follow him. What purpose would it have, I realize now that the cold air has cleared my head, to dissuade him? I wish to see him happy, of course, but beyond offering my opinion I cannot do more.”

“You mean his affection for my sister,” Lizzie murmured, a sudden coolness settling over her and allowing her to put her injured foot out of her mind a little, “you do not approve of her.”

“Your sister…Miss Bennet is a perfect lady, refined in an easy way that would appeal to many men and make them overlook much else. From what I have observed she is as equally reserved with Mr. John Lucas as she is with my friend Bingley. I would wish that she cared for him in equal meas—” Lizzie’s clear, high laugh interrupted his worrying and had him drawing to a sudden stop. 

“My sister hardly shows her true feelings to me, Mr. Darcy, and as you have said there has hardly been a month’s acquaintance between the residents of Netherfield and the general neighborhood. You would presume to judge the feelings of a young lady barely known to you, a lady that you pay little attention to whilst in company? Let your friend court the lady he wishes, she shall not scratch him, and decide himself if he will make an offer. For some four hours is enough to decide such, while still others—my own father among them—remain undecided well into twenty years. Unless you vie for the same lady let Mr. Bingley be.”

“I do not vie for the same lady,” he said softly, glancing up the empty lane and decidedly away from her, and then, “now I have answered your question, Miss Elizabeth, what of my own?”

All her mirth fled her then and she blinked away a sudden heat in her eyes. She would not cry. 

“Truly I am on my way to Lucas Lodge, and I go to beg a great favor of my childhood friend and her brother. My mother arranged for Mr. Collins to make an unwanted declaration this morning, going so far as shooing the family from the breakfast room for him to say his piece. Until your disagreement with Mr. Bingley brought us into confidence this morning I was making good time to see my friends.” It was easier to keep from crying now that it was out in the open. Mr. Darcy was a smart man and would read between the lines—he nearly stuttered when he made his reply, though, obviously trying to glean more information while attempting politeness. Stained with grass and dusty as they both were it could have been a piece of high comedy if not for the fact the dilemma she faced was a real one. 

“Surely—surely, though, the situation would be arranged suitably if…well, what I must say is, your situation would be more financially secu—the living at Hunsford is—Mr. Collins has no other family to sup—”

“Your wish for my comfort is an honorable one, Mr. Darcy, but respect and intelligence are chief among my own concerns,” she said, ending what was obviously an agonizing speech, “for Mr. Collins has little respect for any but Lady de Bourgh, who he brought up even this morning after my mother trapped me with him. I do wish for a marriage of like minds and affections, of course, but that is obviously not to be my fate. If I must make my decision today I will not enter a partnership where there is neither equal insight nor respect between husband and wife. I have known Mr. John Lucas my entire life, he respects me and can carry a conversation. Hopefully we can muddle along well enough,” she said, with a light laugh at the end, belying her own anxieties and concealing them from her companion. Or so she thought: 

“What shall you do if he does not wish to assist you in this manner?” 

Lizzie did a double take at Mr. Darcy, whose tone seemed oddly concerned and solicitous. Were he another man—Mr. Wickham’s face briefly flashed in her mind—she might have thought him genuinely interested, with full regard for the feelings of another. 

“Then he will—” Lizzie had not thought of this, she realized. What if she had been too forceful against John the last time he’d hinted at an alliance and he no longer viewed her with that particular kind of affection? “Then he and his sister will hopefully lend me enough money that I might hire a carriage to London. My aunt and uncle Gardiner recently had their governess put in her notice, Aunt Gardiner wrote Mama asking if Mary or Kitty might be spared to help her while they search for a replacement. Rather than pay a governess they might wish to keep me on in that role instead.” Mr. Darcy put his hand over hers where it lay on his arm, remaining quiet at that declaration for another dozen paces. Lizzie tried to enjoy the sunlight, the sound of birds singing in the trees, while they went on in relative silence.

She very much wished that she had chosen to wear her boots instead of her slippers this morning. For one thing she may not have twisted her ankle as badly as she did, and for another her slippers were doing very little to soften the sharp edges of the rocks on the lane. 

“I understand the pressures of dear, but sometimes…stubborn, relatives, Miss Elizabeth. I myself have been outrunning the machinations of my aunt, Lady Catherine, for nigh on ten years. You wish for a partnership of similar intellect and respect, if you may not have one of affection. After my confession this morning of attempting to dissuade Charles from your sister I know I must seem the definition of hypocrisy…and before I went to sleep last night I determined I would flee the neighborhood to avoid your charms. Derbyshire is so far from here…”

Lizzie kept her eyes fixed forward, shocked to her toes at his words. Surely—but he was so haughty, he hadn’t liked them, any of them, least of all her—surely he was not implying what it seemed he was.

“Sir your manners obscure your meaning, pray tell—”

“Marry me,” he said suddenly, stopping and looking intensely into her eyes, “we will no doubt argue of many things, and you will grow to hate Town as much as I do though perhaps for different reasons, but you cannot pretend to dislike our disagreements and debates. Your mother crows about society and expectations as much as my Aunt Catherine, and she has much superior reasons compared to my aunt. While still a great distance, if my friend chooses to return to Scarborough you will be far closer to your sister while residing at Pemberly than Lucas Lodge. I do you a disservice, these are all mercenary reasons but…I must ask for your hand. This is all very untoward, I know, but I think we shall…as you said…muddle along well enough.”

She secretively took the weight off of her injured foot and let her eyes be drawn down, away from his suddenly urgent gaze. 

It was true that she did secretly worry if she would ever see her sister again should Jane marry Mr. Bingley only for him to whisk her away to the North. 

It was true that while Mr. Darcy made her irrationally angry with him sometimes she did enjoy poking at him and forcing him to debate with her. 

It was true that she considered him equal in his understanding as herself, though, and she had lamented his evident dislike of her…but was it dislike? 

He had said he meant to flee to avoid her…

“If I accept you, will you tell me the truth of what happened between you and Mr. Wickham? A man may mistreat another man, but they always have the option of leaving one another’s company. A woman may not do the same and I have known you a month. You,” she quickly said when she saw he meant to interrupt, “do not have to bring me into your confidence this instant, but I would have you tell me before anything becomes too permanent to take back.”

“Do you? Do you accept?”

It was as exhilarating as it was alarming but Lizzie found herself nodding a yes, first hesitantly but then a little more forcefully before also stating that yes, she would. 

The smile she got in return was as bright as a summer’s day, Mr. Darcy changing in that instant into the sort of amiable fellow who might make friends with a man like Mr. Bingley. He also appeared just as exhilarated and alarmed as she, but not enough that he felt he needed to talk about it. Instead he firmly said they would not be continuing on to Lucas Lodge, they were yet much closer to Longbourne and there were gowns she might change into there and her family to cosset her injuries from her fall. 

“What explanation did you give your family for your flight,” he asked as her home came into view many minutes later.

“I’m afraid I didn’t give them one, only telling Mr. Collins I could not accept him for I had an understanding with another. Please sir, do not abandon me in the face of my mother’s exclamations when she learns of your proposal. She may faint clean away, in which case you must count yourself blessed and ought to thank the good Lord for your windfall.”

In the coming years Lizzie’s impenetrable good humor served her well when dealing with catty nobility and snobbish gentry. Darcy, for his part, took a certain delight in taking his new sisters in town for only the bravest of men would dare bother him during parties and the like—it became well known that pestering Mr. Darcy for too long would result in being forced to ask one of his relations to dance. If a man were lucky he might end up dancing with the blushing Miss Catharine or skilled but mechanical Miss Mary, if not then he was more likely to spend a half hour in Miss Lydia’s exuberant company. While Mr. And Mrs. Darcy attached no scandals or great works to their names their distant connections to trade and industry allowed they and their children to weather the changes the century brought about more easily than many families of great consequence. They did muddle along well enough indeed. 

And Mr. Collins? He was far too mortified for having tried to steal the intended of Mr. Darcy, the nephew of his esteemed patroness, that he found himself a position as a curate in the far southwest of Cornwall and refused all letters addressed to him aside from those from his parishioners and those from Mr. Phillips, the Bennet family solicitor. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you enjoyed this! Thank you for reading!


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